Time Warp
by AdventureAddict
Summary: 14-year old Trisha is plagued by dreams of a blond boy named Edward. She knows they're only dreams, but she can't shake off that feeling in her gut...
1. Chapter 1

**Time Warp**

"Mom!"

Trisha blinked and glanced around. Everything was white, everywhere. She wasn't even sure how she could be in a place that had nothing but her, how she could feel like she was floating but standing, but it was a sort of good feeling, almost. It was peaceful, at least.

"Mom!"

Trisha frowned and bit her lip. The white place didn't look like anyone else besides her could be there. So where was that voice coming from? And who would be calling out for their mom, anyway? Surely they weren't calling for _her_. She was only fourteen and not even married. She was nowhere near being a mom.

"Mom!"

But something in her gut tugged at her, telling her that she _was_ a mom, at least to that voice. It was a boy. _Her_ boy. Her son. Trisha inhaled and spun around.

No… that couldn't be her son. Not even in a dream. Someone so attractive couldn't be her flesh and blood. And yet that feeling in her gut kept nagging and pulling at her, telling her that he was her son, he was dear to her. Trisha smiled and fingered a lock of the boy's blond hair.

"Mom," the boy said again. Trisha could hear that he was barely holding back tears. She stroked the top of his head and pulled him into a hug. The boy shuddered against her, and then hugged her back so tightly that Trisha thought her ribs would crack.

"Edward," she whispered as she drew small circles in his hair. She blinked and thought about the name. Edward. She wasn't sure where it had come from, but it was a good name. She glanced at the boy, who had his head buried in her shoulder. Edward. It fit him. It was a beautiful name.

Edward pulled away from her and wiped at his eyes. Trisha took the chance to look him over better. He wasn't much older than her, probably close to the same age, really. How could he be her son when they were the same age?

And then she started seeing the similarities. It was hard to see at first with his bright hair and eyes, but it was there. His nose looked like hers. And his eyes were the wrong color, but the same shape as hers.

His eyes… Trisha felt her breath hitch. She hadn't noticed it at first glance, but now she saw how hardened and… _worn_ he looked through his eyes. It was like someone had taken a beautiful painting and taken a knife to it. Trisha felt herself make a sound as if she had been punched in the gut before she reached out and stroked his cheek. Edward closed his eyes and took in a shaky breath.

"What's happened to you, Edward?"

It was just a whisper, but she knew he had heard it. His eyes snapped open again and he looked at her, and she could see the pain in his eyes. He opened his mouth to respond, and then he closed it again and looked at the ground, away from her.

"I miss you…" he muttered, avoiding the question. Trisha sighed and pulled him back into a hug. She didn't even know the boy, but she knew the feeling. She wanted so badly to not lose him when she left the white place.

And then, when Edward pulled away from her again, something happened. It was like a small window opened in the whiteness of the world, showing a house and green grass. Trisha blinked and stared at it.

And then she was in the window, only she looked older and more… tired. Like she had been going for days standing on her feet without getting proper sleep. Edward glanced between the window and her.

"You're younger," he said, sounding as if he was surprised he hadn't realized it before. Trisha chuckled and shook her head.

Trisha watched herself sit down underneath a tree and pull a piece of paper out from the pocket of her apron. A letter. Trisha felt herself leaning forward, as if she would be able to read the words through the window.

"Mommy, mommy! Look at me! Look what I can do! Mommy!"

Trisha blinked and tore her gaze away from herself. There, over by the wall of the house, was a younger Edward, balancing against the wall and trying to do a headstand. Trisha laughed and looked over at the Edward beside her, who was smiling slightly, in a wistful sort of way.

"Mommy, look what I can do! See? Mommy!"

Trisha glanced back at her older self. She was still absorbed in her letter. She felt her nails begin to dig into her palm.

"What are you doing, you fool?" she whispered. "He's your son, go play with him. Children never last forever. Go enjoy it while you can."

And then her older self held a hand up to her cheek and began crying as she clutched the letter to her chest. Trisha winced and looked back over at the older Edward. He had his eyes closed.

And then the window was gone. Trisha sighed and reached out to pull Edward into another hug, but as she started reaching out, she felt a tug in her gut. It wasn't a pleasant pull like the one that had told her that she was Edward's mom, but a more uncomfortable one, like a fish being reeled in. She looked at Edward again. He looked as if he had learned that his puppy had been hit by a car.

And then Trisha knew what was important about him. Why he was so beautiful to her, why she just wanted to pet and hug him and protect him from the world.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Mom," Edward whispered, and she could see more tears begin flowing down his face, only this time she wasn't able to reach out and comfort him.

Trisha woke with a jolt, awkwardly jerking from the world of dreams to reality. She groaned and buried her head in her pillow again. She just wanted to go back to sleep.

Edward.

Trisha opened her eyes again and frowned in confusion. She had dreamt about Edward. Her son. The boy the same age as her. She sighed and sat up on her bed.

She had always read about time travel in books, but she had never thought she'd actually question its reality. And if that _was_ time travel, why did she have to experience it in a dream so she had to question its reality so much?

"_Mommy, look what I can do! See? Mommy!" _

Trisha winced and held a hand to her head. She was too young to have to deal with painful memories of mistakes she had made as a mother. But it wasn't mistakes she _had_ made, because she hadn't made them yet, right?

Trisha sighed and shook her head as she climbed out of her bed. Maybe it had just been a crazy dream, and nothing more.

But there was still that tugging feeling in her gut.

**Woot, I'm actually still writing things! Oneshots, even, which I haven't written much in a while. And yes, I have a bit of a thing with Trisha lately. But we all love Trisha, riiiight? **

**This was actually a real dream I had. Yes, seriously. Practically word for word, even. It's been bothering me for a few days now, so I decided to write it all down in an attempt to let it out. Yay writing. **


	2. Chapter 2

Edward knew where he was. As soon as he saw—no, felt—the white emptiness around him, he knew. He knew it was a dream—he always knew it was a dream when he was in these things, and yet that never helped him to escape—and he knew that soon he would be waking from his sleep with a yelp. Worrying Al, no doubt. But it wasn't as if he could _help_ that he was always having nightmares. If he knew how to stop feeling so horrible about things so he could stop having the cursed dreams, he would.

And yet, sometimes he wondered. If he were given he chance to honestly get rid of these dreams, would he really? After all, this was his one last, faltering connection to her. The only way he was able to have a mother, and even in his dreams, he was failing to remember some of the details. Where her freckles were, how her eyes wrinkled. He didn't want to lose this one connection. If this kept up, he wouldn't even be able to remember his own mother's face.

And that was when he saw her. She was facing away from him. He hoped it wouldn't be to hide some gruesome twisting of her features or something. He wanted to at least enjoy her for a little bit before he had to go back.

"Mom!" he called out. She didn't turn. Which was strange. She always, _always_ turned towards him immediately when he called for her. She was always there for him.

He called again. She looked around, as if startled there was a voice, but still didn't turn towards him. He called for her again, and finally, she turned to look at him, her face a mixture of shock and fear.

It was the clearest he could remember seeing her in any dream. Her face was sharp, as if she had never been gone. Maybe she never had. He could almost believe that everything else he and Al had been through had been a horrible dream, and this, _this_ was reality. His mom was reality. She reached out and touched his hair. Her fingers were as light against him as a child, like she was scared to hold him. He choked back the tears that wanted to come, that were always there when he thought about her.

"Mom," he croaked.

Suddenly, she shifted, and she was a mother again, wrapping him into one of the tightest hugs he had known, like she could protect him from everything in the world that hurt. For all he remembered of her, she was the only one who ever could. He wrapped back around her, just holding, never wanting to let go, never again.

"Edward," she whispered, combing through his hair. Just her saying his name felt like a blessing, like something he could carry with him and use as a shield against the world. He felt stronger with her there, he felt stronger because he was allowed to be weak. He was allowed to just be Ed. He pulled away to look at her again, wiping the tears from his face. He didn't want to forget her face again. He wanted to carry her strength with him after he woke up.

The two stared at each other silently, both seeming to try and commit the other to memory, like she was afraid that she would forget him too. Then her breath hitched, and he saw her eyes water. Her hand was on his cheek the next moment, rubbing comfort into his skin as if he were a child again. Hell, he was a child, still, even through everything. He closed his eyes against her touch.

"What's happened to you, Edward?"

His eyes were open again before he knew it. The question was so hard, so full of hurt, and such a long story to tell. Just her asking it made him scared that the dream was going to turn into a nightmare—just like all the others—and he would be awake in his bed with a sweat. An orphan again.

"I miss you..." he muttered, looking away from her, avoiding the question. He didn't want the dream to end, didn't want her to go away. She sighed, that motherly sigh that said she knew he was hiding something from her, but she pulled him into a hug and let it go, all the same.

He wanted to just stay in her arms and be held, just be able to be a family again, but something was nagging at him. Something felt... off. He couldn't be sure, but it was that same weird feeling he got whenever he knew that someone was watching him. He pulled away with a frown and looked over to where it was coming from.

It was like a window was stretching and opening, showing the hills and the grass he had grown up on. And the house. The house he hadn't seen in years, and in front of it, his mom. She was just as clear as the mom next to him, though something seemed different. He looked back to the mom beside him, and realized her face had less freckles, less wrinkles.

"You're younger," he stated, surprised he hadn't seen it. Was his memory on his mom really failing that much? Could he really not even tell when a younger Trisha had been substituted for the one he had known?

The mom in the window sat down by the tree, pulling a letter out of her apron pocket and beginning to read. Ed winced. He could remember the day. She had just gotten a letter from dad, and he hadn't found out until after she was sick and he had gone through all of the stacks of paper in the house. She hadn't told him or Al about the letters from their dad, mostly because they were along the lines of how he loved them all, but wasn't able to come back... yet.

"Mommy, mommy! Look at me! Look what I can do! Mommy!"

Ed blinked, slowly, almost wanting his eyes to stay shut. He hadn't known that the letter she was reading had been so important—how could he have? He was just a kid, after all. But he still felt bad, trying to act like he was the most important thing around, always strutting and trying to act like he was better than Al. He hadn't realized that his mom was a person too. That there really were more important things than him sometimes.

He remembered. It was almost nice, remembering how stuck up he had been as a kid, and how much he had grown. Granted, he was still stuck up, but at least now, as a teen, he knew what he was doing.

Then the mom in the window held a hand up to her cheek, clutched the letter to her chest, and started crying. Ed closed his eyes. He didn't want to see his mom cry like that. He didn't want to remember how much pain she had gone through because of their dad leaving.

When he opened his eyes again, the window was gone, and his mom—the younger mom—was looking at him like she wanted to fix something and was only starting to realize that she couldn't. He felt a tug on his gut, like someone was calling him, a long way away.

"I love you," she whispered, and it took all his willpower not to cry.

"I love you too, Mom."

And then, as he was just starting to wake up, the tears came. Tears at the thought of not seeing her again, tears at the beauty of having a peaceful dream of her, for once.

He didn't wake up peacefully though. He startled Al as he jolted into a sitting position, his hair flying around his face. Al looked at him, worried, even though it was normal for Ed to wake from nightmares like that.

"Another bad dream?" Al said, wary. He worried about Ed, and about how the idiot insisted on carrying such a heavy burden on his back. Ed silently touched two fingers to his cheek, still a little dazed. Already the dream was slipping away from him. That was always the most annoying part about dreams that weren't terrifying. They were so much harder to remember.

Then he looked down at his fingers and realized they were wet. Tears. He had been crying.

And then he remembered it. How mom had been there, how he hugged her, how she stroked his hair. How vivid it had all been. Not like a normal dream. Almost like it was real. He frowned and ran a hand through his hair.

"No, not a bad dream," he said to Al, looking at the ceiling. "I... I just got startled waking up."

"What was it about?"

Ed looked over directly at Al and smiled weakly. "Mom. She says hi. She says... She says that she loves you." And at that, he couldn't hold back the tears any longer, and they poured from him, as Al rushed over to hold his brother in the same protective way that Mom always had.

**Okay, finally, finally wrote the second part to this that I've been planning for... forever, so I can finally call this one done and leave it alone. Hopefully my writing style didn't throw people off too much between the two different bits, I know my writing style has changed a lot since I wrote the last one. It's interesting to me to see the difference. Sometimes I forget my skills have grown and changed, lol. **

**Anyway, thanks everyone for reading!**


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